


Can't forsake the journey for the safety of your room

by mysticmjolnir (empressmaude)



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Intersex Loki, Lokitty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:17:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8516398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressmaude/pseuds/mysticmjolnir
Summary: Loki's been missing for a while. He's probably fine.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DreamingMoonlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingMoonlight/gifts).



> So. This fic is roughly two and half years old. Possibly three and a half? Time is relative, probably. It was started as a birthday gift for thorkizilla some time ago and is an unapologetic piece of trope laden fluff. Hopefully she still likes that sort of thing?
> 
> Several lovely people over the years have read this over for me, most recently my precious hubband lokisgspot, who made me realise that actually, it's finished. There may be a second part (I even have the beginning of it!), but right now this is pretty much it. 
> 
> If you'd like to talk to me about anything, I am on twitter.

Thor stalks into his chambers, scowling with annoyance. He has been on a quest all day – not a quest of great valour, great challenge or even great reward – but a quest nonetheless, and it rankles badly that he has had no success. A quest set to him by the All-mother herself as she sat beneath a silver birch, using a spindle to coax sunlight and shadow into one shining thread along with strands of her own hair to bind the two together.

“Thor, I need you to find your brother,” she told him calmly, curling rays of sunshine around her fingers before twisting them around the threads of darkness already collected.

“What has Loki done now?” asked Thor, feeling resigned to retrieving Loki from some deep lake whose naiad he had tried to steal from, or having to try and trade gold with the dwarves for the return of his errant brother – they usually refuse and he ends up trading strikes of Mjolnir instead.

“I do not know,” replied Frigga, not looking up from her work. “I only know that I have not seen him in some days. Heimdall says he is within Asgard, but has hidden himself with magic. Will you find him and let me know he is safe and well?”

Thor frowned – it is not uncommon for Loki to vanish without warning, but strange that Heimdall said he was within Asgard. “Loki is likely fine, Mother,” he said, trying not to imagine what Loki might be up to. “And he is likely also neck-deep in mischief, as usual.” The last time he had interrupted a scheme of Loki's, his brother had filled his boots with snails and turned his helm into butter in the middle of a very long political ceremony under the hot Alfheim sun so it melted into his hair while the elves snickered around him. Thor is rarely target of Loki's pranks unless he provokes him, so usually prefers to let Loki wreak what he will and simply help clean up the mess afterwards.

“I fear he is in need of help,” his mother had insisted. “He hides from me as well, and he would not ignore my call without good reason. Will you find him, Thor, and give him whatever help he needs?”

Thor was still quite skeptical that Loki was desirous of any help at all, but he would not make his mother ask him a third time. “I will,” he promised, bowing his head.

Thus, Thor has spent the entire day searching the palace from top to bottom; every niche of the library, every dark corner and nook and cranny of their home, even the stables and the kitchens and the empty guest quarters, all were completely devoid of Loki or any sign that Loki had been there. He gave Loki's rooms a cursory look, but found nothing except the usual chaos in Loki's private study. It looked like Loki had perhaps been making a spell before he left, but everything seemed untouched for days and Thor has never been able to read Loki's shorthand – it was designed partly for that purpose, he realised some years ago. Odin and Frigga's own quarters he did not even bother with, and Frigga would know if her son was in the gardens. By sunset he is irritated and resentful of both his mother and brother for causing him to waste a day in such tedium. Loki is not in danger, he is certain, or he would have send word to Thor demanding assistance in some oblique way, he is simply hiding for his own, probably mischievous reasons. Tomorrow he will return to Frigga and tell her that Loki cannot be found, and that if his brother requires aid, he will have to come to Thor himself and get it.

Thor throws himself down into a chair to pull off his boots and prepare for bed, grumbling to himself. Tomorrow he is going to gather the Warriors Three and go on a hunting trip to Vanaheim – Sif too, if she will come. When he comes back, Loki will have wriggled out of whatever hole he has hidden in and-

From where Thor sits, he can almost see under his bed, raised up on a small dais, although there is no light to make out any details. A very strange shadow is emerging from beneath, so strange and unexpected that Thor keeps a tight hold of his boot in case of attack, all thoughts of his iniquitous brother driven out of his mind.

A cat, black as ink and lithe as a shadow, slinks out from beneath his bed and blinks mossy green eyes at him. It is a fine looking beast, with a glossy coat and a long, sinuous tail, and moves with typical feline grace towards Thor, gaze fixed on him. Thor finds that look unnervingly familiar, but he cannot remember ever having seen the creature before.

It jumps up onto his lap without warning, and Thor leans back instinctively, dropping the boot onto the floor. He had only managed to get one of them off before the cat appeared, and sits with one bare foot on the stone floor below, reluctant to remove his new friend. “Hello,” he says with a smile, his bad mood quickly melting away. “What are you doing in here?”

The cat responds to his question by giving him a disdainful look – although from what Thor knows of cats, that is their usual expression towards the rest of the world when they bother to acknowledge it. Thor is well used to being looked at like grime at the bottom of a cauldron by ungrateful green-eyed beauties, so pays it little mind and begins to pet the creature, running his large hand slowly over its soft black ears and along its spine.

After a few strokes the cat begins to purr, closing its eyes and butting its head into Thor's palm. Thor chuckles and scratches behind its ears, then down under its jaw and tickling its chin; the purring gets louder, until suddenly Thor feels a sharp pain and pulls his hand back, looking in astonishment between the now hissing animal and the blood dripping from his finger.

“What in the All-father's name was that for?” swears Thor, his foul mood returning like a sudden thundercloud. “Lunatic little beast...” he plucks the cat from his lap, wincing at the pain as it tries to hold on by sinking its claws into his thighs, and drops it onto the ground. He has no clue where the creature came from, but he also has no intention of letting it stay the night in his rooms if it wants to taste his blood. Probably it has wandered here from Freyja's part of the palace, he muses while dragging the second boot off. “You can find your way back to wherever you came from, little beast,” he tells the cat while standing up and shrugging out of his outer tunic and shirt.

The cat stares at him again, then runs to the bed and jumps up, padding over to the pillows and curling into a tidy circle on a red silk cushion. Thor eyes it unfavourably as he changes into a pair of loose trousers and then approaches the bed, planning to scoop the cat into his arms and turf it out of the door as swiftly as possible.

As he reaches out, the cat lifts its head and yawns widely, then makes a quiet miaow, blinking at him. Thor pauses, then sighs and reaches out to scratch behind the animal's ears again. The cat nuzzles his palm, purring loudly once more, and Thor relents. “You can stay so long as you do not bite me again,” he tells it sternly, going to extinguish the lights before climbing into bed and drawing the covers up to his waist. The cat immediately stretches out on his chest, paws folded neatly under its chin as it stares down at him.

Thor closes his eyes and tries to relax enough to sleep, but the unfamiliar warm weight on him and the feel of those sharp green eyes on him is far too unsettling. “Stop that,” he murmurs, opening one eye and turning onto his side so the cat falls into an ungainly heap on the covers beside him with an unhappy sound. It gets up and begins kneading at the bedspread, clawing at the embroidered coverlet so frantically that threads begin to come loose. With a groan, Thor picks it up with a hand under its belly, and places the cat on his hip. “There,” he snaps. “Stop being a nuisance.”

The cat flagrantly ignores this order by scrambling up his side, using claws to hang on when Thor flails in surprise, then climbing over his face onto the pillows. Thor swears angrily and drags the covers over his head, hoping the damn thing will settle down soon. If it does not stop being such a pest soon he will throw it from the room, sweet purring or no – the God of Thunder does not share his bed with furry little beasts that wriggle and bite and claw him when he is trying to rest. Bad enough he wasted the day on a fruitless hunt for Loki, now he has to spend his night harassed by an unwelcome and hateful feline.

After several minutes of half-settling in various places across the bed before padding elsewhere, the cat wriggles its way under the covers and rubs a cold nose against Thor's cheek. Thor is about to throw off the blankets and drop the cat off the nearest balcony, but it quickly tucks itself beneath his chin in a small curl, exhaling quiet snuffly breaths against his cheek. It is worryingly endearing, and Thor grumbles as he turns down the blankets to make himself more comfortable and cups a hand behind the cat's head, thumb rubbing between its ears. The purring starts again, vibrations rumbling against Thor's throat.

Thor finally feels himself relax against the bed – something about the cat's constant wanderings had put him on edge. He sighs and eases himself into a more comfortable position, careful not to disturb the now dozing cat, and begins to drift into sleep.

His dreams are ordinary, for a god, and he wakes in the morning from the sound of the cat miaowing loudly in his ear. Thor rolls over with a groan, but doesn't feel any real wrath – he is hungry for his breakfast too.

“I suppose you must have a name,” he muses, sitting up and smoothing a hand down the cat's velvet-furred back – the cat responds by rubbing itself shamelessly against him, purring and flicking its long tail in what is probably satisfaction. After they have broken their fast in the halls Thor will return the cat to Freyja's palace, since he has no desire for such a scornful permanent companion. Loki is bad enough.

He pulls on a fresh shirt and scoops the cat into a squirming bundle in his arms, ready to carry it to their morning meal. The cat wriggles, putting its paws on his shoulder and rearing up, butting its head against his mouth. Thor smiles despite himself, and presses a kiss on one silky ear.

There is a sudden flash of green, and Thor is assailed by the strong scent of aniseed, sweet and heady, and finds that rather than a small, soft cat in his arms he is now clutching his brother, naked and looking just as astonished as Thor himself.

“Loki?” gasps Thor, nearly dropping his brother to the ground in shock as Loki clings tightly to his shoulders. “Loki, you-”

Loki hisses at him, then pulls a face and shoves at Thor's chest. Thor lets him down hurriedly, making sure his brother's feet are firmly on the ground before letting him go. For a moment, they simply stare at each other, unsure of what to say.

“You...were a cat?” says Thor uncertainly, as if there is a chance he simply dreamed the entire previous night and Loki transforming in his arms a second before.

“No, I was a horse,” Loki snaps, turning away and snatching the coverlet from the bed to wrap around himself. “You really are an idiot, Thor.”

Thor folds his arms over his chest, displeased with Loki's surliness. “Why were you a cat?” he asks, watching Loki carefully. “What was the point of it? A strange way of getting yourself into my bed, when usually-”

“I did not do it to get into your bed,” replies Loki angrily. “I didn't-” he presses his lips together tightly, looking away. “I had my reasons,” he sniffs finally, eyes averted from Thor's.

“What reasons?” prods Thor. Normally, he might write this off as one of Loki's stranger pranks, but he fails to see what Loki might have gained from this. Thor's attention and affection he has other, far more practical, ways of attaining, and there seems nothing else that Loki has or might have achieved as a small black cat. It seems likely to Thor that Loki was in cat-shape all the time he was missing, which means he might have been up to mischief elsewhere...but why lurk under Thor's bed to wait for him? Why pretend to be a nearly mindless beast for the night and only reveal himself in the morning?

Frigga sent him to find Loki with the fear that her son needed some kind of help, and Thor is beginning to think that she was right.

Loki is still refusing to look at him, instead preferring to fuss at the coverlet he clutches around himself. “Reasons of my own,” he says finally, and stalks towards one of Thor's chests, rifling through it shamelessly and pulling out a shirt and pair of leggings. The shirt is Thor's, but the leggings are actually Loki's own. Thor is not entirely sure how they got into his private clothes chest, or how he feels about their presence there. He muses on this while Loki dresses himself, huddled under the coverlet to hide his body from Thor's gaze – another curious behaviour from Loki, who is usually happy to strut naked around Thor's chambers until Thor is roused enough to pin him down.

“Loki?” he asks in a low-pitched voice. Loki looks up at him, blinking his mossy eyes in a newly familiar way. “I hope you know that you can trust me,” begins Thor, but his appeal is cut off by Loki breaking into laughter. He scowls, feeling mocked, but Loki slinks forward (shirt hanging very distractingly off one pale shoulder) and kisses Thor on the nose.

“I trust you, brother,” he says with apparent sincerity, and shoves the blanket into his arms. “Don't fret, it'll not happen again. You nearly squashed me three times in the night, anyway.”

“You tried to shove your paw up my nose twice,” Thor points out indignantly, and Loki quickly leaves, looking flustered.

~~

When Thor goes to find Frigga and let her know that Loki is alive and well, but has apparently grown a fondness for feline existence, he sees Loki already with her. His mother and brother seem to be talking intently – Loki is scowling and his mother looks unhappy – and he learned long ago that there was little to be gained from interrupting such occasions. Instead he goes to find his friends and get a taste of the sparring ring after yesterday's frustrations.

It always does him good to clear his head of Loki's eccentricities by giving one or all of his companions a sound thrashing, and today is no different. His final bout is with Hogun, an admirable warrior undeterred by having watched Thor trounce five other good men before him. Afterwards, they go to slack their thirst in a tavern as usual, and the conversation turns to petty matters of life, Thor ponders whether to share his strange tale. He has no doubt that his friends would laugh heartily at the thought of Thor wrangling with his brother in feline form, and it is on the tip of his tongue to begin the tale...but strangely, what keeps him silent is the memory of Loki's sweet smile when declaring he trusted Thor. Loki had seemed oddly embarrassed by the incident, and while Thor is perplexed by the whole thing, he thinks it would be boorish to treat it as a matter for merriment among his friends. When Loki's recent absence is mentioned by Fandral, he merely mentions carelessly that he has seen his brother that morning, and the conversation moves swiftly on.

But he continues to dwell on Loki for the rest of the day, by turns wondering what could be the matter with him, and wondering if his brother is still wearing Thor's shirt. Despite the blatant thievery, and Thor's rather low expectations of Loki returning the shirt to him, Thor's strongest feeling is a rather strange mix of contentment and lust. He looks forward to finding Loki and teasing the truth out of him – Thor has found after decades of experiments that the best ways to get Loki to give up important information is either to make a game of it, or simply dedicate himself to Loki's pleasure until his brother is too fucked out to remember to be deceitful.

Loki is absent from the halls at dinner, but this is nothing unusual. When they were infants, the princes would usually eat with their parents and the closest of the court, except for feast-days, but as they grew Thor shared more meals with his warrior kin in the great halls and Loki rarely joined him, instead usually dining with their mother or in his own rooms. Thor heads to Loki's chambers at sunset, certain he will find his brother there this time.

This time he is right, although Loki's door is locked and warded against all visitors. Thor has to bellow for some time before Loki finally opens the door, and barges in past his brother so Loki has no chance to shut it in his face. “What is the matter with you?” he demands.

Loki looks weary - and Thor knows for certain that his brother is not deprived of sleep so he must have had a particularly draining day – and changed at some point into one of his own tunics. His short hair is tousled, as though Loki has been running his hand through it frequently in exasperation, and he stinks of herbs and magic. “Nothing is the matter!” snaps Loki, clutching at the door as he holds it open, as if Thor is going to depart again. “Go away Thor.”

Thor takes Loki's shoulders and tugs his brother closer, looking carefully at him. Loki doesn't look actually ill, merely tired and irritable, neither of which are unusual. Whatever is ailing him, it is purely a magical issue, and Thor has little idea of how to help or even discover what the problem is without wrangling the truth out of Loki himself.

So.

Sliding a hand into Loki's already untidy hair, Thor sharply tugs his brother against his chest and kisses the curve of his lower lip, gently teasing with his tongue in a way he knows makes Loki tremble. It works well, and Loki gasps and releases the door. Thor kicks it shut and wraps his arm around Loki's waist to hold him close, humming with pleasure when he feels Loki's hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Already he feels half-hard and ready to apply himself to his task for the night – to bed his brother as thoroughly as he ever has and to tease the secret of his apparently involuntary shape-shifting from him.

Loki melts by degrees; first leaning into Thor's kiss and parting his lips to let Thor's tongue sweep inside, then letting out a breathy moan and closing his eyes. “Thor...” he murmurs, and Thor begins to walk them backwards towards Loki's bed, the way familiar enough by now he does not need to glance behind.

He halts after a few feet when Loki's fingers suddenly curl into claws, sharp nails pricking meanly at his neck. “You are transparent, Thor,” Loki hisses, suddenly rigid with rage when he was so pliant a moment before. Thor adores his brother's mercurial temperament, but sometimes he wishes Loki were just a little less complex. He has to tighten his hold on Loki when he tries to shove his way out of Thor's embrace, wincing when Loki actually opens a small wound on his neck. “Let go of me,” demands Loki, suddenly furious and hostile instead of supple and sighing, “You will not fuck me just to learn my secrets, Thor, I will not allow it.”

Thor sighs deeply and hauls Loki even closer, hand falling naturally to Loki's nape and gently holding him still. “Your secrets are not so desirable,” he says, mouth close to Loki's ear, “That they could overtake my lust for your own self. Besides, I would have thought you of all people, brother, would sympathise with a little ambiguity now and then.”

This does not settle Loki fully, but he stop struggling at least. Thor presses kisses along Loki's jaw before capturing his mouth again, keeping his attentions gentle and supplicating while Loki broods his way to complaisance.

Loki remains unmoving for longer than Thor likes, and he leans back to gauge his brother's mood. Loki looks distracted, unhappy, and Thor longs for him to simply give in, longs to understand what can possibly be bringing such an expression to his lovely face even when he is standing in Thor's embrace. But the only way he can learn Loki is by stripping away all his outer layers with passion and pleasure – Loki has made it so, yet he sulks when Thor finally obeys one of his cryptic lessons.

“Let me, brother,” he pleads softly, adjusting his hand and brushing his thumb over Loki's cheek, fingers still resting against his neck. He doesn’t know what else to say – he could explain himself, but Loki has a way of making words into vicious weapons to use against himself and against the world, and Thor cannot stand to be made a part of that. Another day, he might forego words and convince Loki with kisses, but Loki's struggles were too genuine, and Thor needs him to yield a little first.

They stand there for an uncomfortably long time before Loki finally, finally relents and relaxes into Thor's arms again. “Very well,” he mumbles grudgingly, and lifts his mouth for Thor's kiss.

Thor's response is to ignore his brother's pouting lips and begin tugging Loki out of his clothes, sparing a brief thought to where his shirt from the morning might have vanished to. Loki huffs grumpily and slips out of Thor's grasp – this time Thor does not restrain him – and shrugs out of his tunic in a way that has Thor's blood heating again. He reaches for Loki, but his brother dances out of the way, laughing happily. Grinning with delight, Thor lunges again, but Loki is too fast for him, and the bastard trips Thor up and sends him sprawling face-first onto the bed.

Thor tries to get up, but finds Loki's entire weight straddling his back, pinning him down. There's a ripping sound and the sudden feel of air on his skin, followed by the sensation of Loki's cool fingertips walking along his spine. Loki's hand grips Thor's hair just hard enough to hurt, and Thor moans involuntarily, rocking his hips gently to rub his clothed and hardening cock against the bedspread.

“Perhaps I'll pull your secrets out of you instead,” muses Loki from above. Thor feels his weight shifting as he leans down to kiss Thor's nape, then worry at the scratch on his neck. “Shall we do that tonight, brother, hmm?”

Thor moans, arching his spine up against Loki. There is pleasure aplenty in lying beneath Loki as well as over him, and another night Thor might happily let his brother take the lead, let himself be spread out across Loki's bed and used until he is spent and sore. He relaxes with a quiet sigh, as if acquiescing, and Loki makes a strange growl and bites at the small wound, reopening it and causing blood to drip down onto the bed. “Mine,” he snarls, sharp nails scoring marks across Thor's shoulders, settling himself heavier on Thor's waist. “You are mine-,”

Thor abruptly rolls, using surprise to duck out from beneath Loki, and quickly hauls him towards the head of the bed. He shoves Loki down against the pillows and covers him, kissing insistently at his jaw and cheek while working at the ties of their clothing. “I am yours,” he agrees softly, shrugging off the tatters of his shirt and deliberately pressing down to feel their bare chests touching. “And I keep no secrets from you, brother.”

Loki shudders, then reaches down between them to pull impatiently at his own trouser fastenings. “Prove it,” he gasps, a demand that Thor has no idea how to answer and so doesn't bother to try. Through their combined efforts, they are both naked within a few minutes, and Thor wastes no more time in hooking his arms under Loki's knees to lift and spread his legs, his cock rubbing inelegantly against Loki's, but with enough friction to make them both gasp.

He'd planned to drive Loki wild with his mouth alone before actually fucking him, but Thor is eager now to get his cock into his brother and Loki is the same, tilting his hips and arching up in an unmistakable demand, one Thor can easily satisfy. He slides a hand up Loki's leg, intending to make sure his brother is wet and loose enough, but Loki bats his hand away impatiently. “Now, Thor,” he says, eyes gleaming. “Fuck me now.”

Thor obeys gladly, sinking deep in Loki's cunt without pause. His breathing is ragged by the time he bottoms out, and Loki is flushed and looking keenly at Thor's throat rather than his face – Thor is confused for a moment before remembering the blood that must be still drying there. Loki likes to leave his marks on Thor's body, short-lived though they might be, although Thor wonders if this one will scar. Loki might like that, he muses, sliding his cock slowly out before slamming right back in.

He fucks Loki slow but rough, relishing how quickly Loki falls apart beneath him, and works a hand along Loki's cock and teases at his clit with enough pressure to not leave Loki wanting nor overwhelm him. Years of practice have taught Thor his brother's limits, and he uses this knowledge now to prolong Loki's pleasure for as long as he can. Loki moans, meeting Thor's thrusts by wrapping his legs around Thor's back and rocking his hips. His hands run over Thor's shoulders and arms, never settling but sometimes squeezing tightly. Thor is careful not to lose himself in pleasure, and even when Loki comes, clenching tight around him, he keeps his relentless pace and fucks Loki through his orgasm. Loki collapses into languor, a relaxed and happy smile on his face, and Thor pauses for a moment to savour the sight.

“Thor,” sighs Loki, brushing his fingers over the scratch on Thor's neck before closing his eyes and tipping his head back to expose his own throat invitingly. “Thor, if you want to know anything, you'll have to do a lot better than that.”

Even after centuries of Loki's transparent taunts and goads, Thor feels a primal urge within him to answer such a blatant challenge, and he grins widely, lowering his mouth to bite a bruise onto the base of Loki's lovely neck, while shoving his brother's legs higher ready to fuck him even deeper.

~~

Hours and hours later, they lie entwined under the covers, Loki nestled sleepily in Thor's arms. Even Thor's stamina has limits (although, should the need for further exertion arise he is certain he could answer it adequately), and he is very content to simply hold his brother close, petting the ends of his hair and the back of his neck lovingly. Loki reopened Thor's scratch twice more during the night, and there are small smears of blood over them both, as well as a stinging pain on Thor's neck. Loki shifts a little, and Thor has to hold back a laugh when he feels a wet lick against his skin as Loki sucks away a bloodstain.

“It's a curse,” mumbles Loki, almost too quiet to hear with his mouth pressed against Thor's chest. “That's all, a small curse I have not broken yet.”

Thor rolls them, putting Loki onto his back against the pillows and peering down at him. The candles that lit the room for their coupling are half out now, leaving them in a pleasant golden-tilted gloom, along with the moonlight filtering in through the window. Thor can barely see his brother, and shifts awkwardly to try and prevent his shadow from obscuring Loki from what little light there is. “You have been cursed by someone?” he prompts Loki softly. “Who?”

“It does not matter,” Loki replies, eyes closed but face still pulling into a frown. “I don't need you to help, Thor, truly. Just to keep your mouth shut.”

Thor rolls his eyes at Loki's stubbornness – but if Loki is telling the truth, he might be right. “What manner of curse?” he asks, trying a new angle. “What does it do, precisely?”

Loki is silent for so long Thor thinks he might have fallen asleep. “You have seen what it does,” he says eventually. “That is all.”

“I saw my brother pretending to be a cat for a night,” Thor points out. “And then changing back when I held him in my arms the next morning. Forgive me, Loki, if I'm not as quick as you to-”

“It wasn't for a night,” said Loki in a small, tight voice. His face is still screwed up unhappily, and he flinches when Thor touches his cheek. “It was for days, Thor, and I tried everything but no spells would work except to hide me and-” he stops, rolling away from Thor suddenly and hiding his face in the pillow. “I do not know how I changed back,” he whispers, sounding so wretched that Thor immediately puts himself behind Loki, pulling his brother back against his chest and wrapping both arms around him. He nuzzles Loki's neck and kisses his ear, rubbing soothing circles into his chest.

So, Loki did not play at being a cat, he was trapped as one. Thor wonders briefly why Loki did not go to their mother for aid – but perhaps whoever did this to him is someone he does not want to admit crossing paths with to Frigga either. He pulls the covers higher over them to cocoon them together in warmth and safety, wanting to give Loki as much reassurance as he can, considering he is the one who sought to make Loki vulnerable enough to give up the truth. “All will be well,” he promises softly, and means it. There is no curse in the nine realms that between them they cannot find a way to break.

Loki seems to drift off to sleep without another word, and Thor is happy to let him. He knows what is happening to Loki now, and although he does not know how to fix it, he has no intention of letting Loki wrangle with this alone.

~~

He wakes up to the gorgeous sight of Loki riding his cock in the morning sunlight, but is rather indignant when Loki shoves a pillow over his face when he tries to speak, with the curt rebuke of, “Shut up Thor I'm enjoying this.” Thor has little patience for being used as merely a piece of flesh for Loki to grind against so early in the morning, and knocks Loki onto his back, ready to start the day as he means to go on. Loki wriggles in annoyance but quickly subsides under Thor's kisses and cock, and before long they are both sated and panting, lying side by side against the pillows.

Loki is the first to get up, pouring water into a basin from a jug and washing himself briskly with a cloth. “Get up,” he tells Thor, tossing the damp cloth onto Thor's chest and going to fetch his own clothes. “I'm busy today, I can't have you lolling about in here.”

Managing, barely, not to be offended by the unfriendly dismissal, Thor rises and gives himself a half-hearted scrub. The water is warm – the jug it came from is enchanted to keep it so, a clever trick of Loki's, but Thor prefers to wash in cold water in the mornings. He pulls on his trousers and rolls his eyes at his ruined shirt. He turns, meaning to demand the return of the shirt Loki took yesterday in recompense, but his brother has vanished. Thor rolls his eyes again and leaves.

After walking half-naked to his rooms and finding himself clean garb, Thor goes to the far eastern part of the palace, somewhere he has rarely visited of late. Freyja and Freyr share a tower together in Asgard, although they both have their own homes in Alfheim and the Fólkvangr fields still. They came to Asgard with his mother long ago, to keep her company in a strange land after the war with Vanaheim was ended with his parents' marriage, but they never seemed to age as she has, and feel more like peers to Thor, or very slightly older, than his mother's childhood playmates.

He is glad to find Freyja in residence and is greeted with an enthusiastic embrace from the goddess before being drawn to a bench and pressed to sit down. A handmaiden brings them a tray of fruit, ham and fresh bread, along with a large flagon of water. “No, no,” says Freyja, shaking her head. “The Mighty Thor has come to break his fast with me, Katla, we cannot expect him to drink simple water. Bring us some small ale, at least, or perhaps some of the elf-wine my brother sent last month.”

“Water is enough, Katla,” Thor interjects, already pouring himself a cup and drinking deep. The bread smells excellent, and he begins to tear apart a loaf and eat.

“Wine, Katla,” says Freyja firmly, and Katla curtseys before going to fetch another flagon, this one of fine elf-wine direct from Alfheim. Thor can smell that too, a sharp fruity tang in the air, but he wants a clear head for now, for Freyja can be as tricky as Loki, in her own way.

“So to what do I owe the special pleasure of your company?” Freyja asks, taking an apple and beginning to peel it, popping the slices of skin into her mouth. “It has been an age, Thor, has it not?”

“A little less than that,” says Thor, refusing to be drawn. “I have a favour to ask, my Lady.”

“Of course you do,” she replies with a sharp grin. “So ask, Thor. You know I will hear you.”

He does know. They might rarely cross each other's threads at present – Freyja has her students across the realms and Thor has his training in Asgard – but she is an old friend, one whom he trusts wholly. She played with both him and Loki as children, helped teach Loki his magics, and was rarely far from their mother's side at all for centuries. Sometimes he cannot separate them in his memories at all – one beautiful woman with golden hair, magic at her fingertips and a warm smile on her lips seems to be all he remembers. Nowadays, Frigga is more All-mother than Vanir Princess, and Thor finds himself curious to see them side by side once more, to see what differences time has truly wrought. He will not tell her Loki's secret, but he can ask for her help and know if she guesses anything then she will not gossip or use it against them.

Thor mulls over his words, trying to think of how to ask his question without revealing too much, then gives up and throws discretion to the winds. “Have you ever encountered a curse where someone turns into a cat for an unpredictable amount of time?”

Freyja slowly puts down her fruit knife, an incredulous expression dawning on her face. “Have I...what? Why would you ask such an extraordinary question, Thor? Have you come across such a curse?” She frowns, looking concerned. “Has someone cursed you, stormy one?”

“No, I am not cursed,” Thor hastens to assure her. “I merely...am curious.” He nods, as if this would convince her his query comes from nothing but idle curiosity. It doesn't, as he can tell by the shrewd look she gives him. “I...for a friend,” he tries clumsily, wincing as he imagines Loki's derision at his appalling lack of deviousness. Thor can lie, he can lie well, when there is a need for it. Lying to his friends about petty matters, however, is not something he has ever excelled at.

“A friend,” says Freyja slowly in a doubtful tone. “A friend of yours who has been cursed, or seeks to cast one?”

Thor opens his mouth, then shuts it with a snap. “Neither,” he lies, opting for simplicity. “And you have not answered my first question.”

Freyja stares at him, idling twirling the point of her tiny blade against the table top. “I have never heard of such a curse,” she says finally. “It sounds like something someone particularly mischievous would concoct. How is Loki, by the way?”

“Loki is well,” Thor tells her, wishing she would stop being inquisitive and just be helpful. “You are certain? This curse must have been made by the caster themselves?”

She shrugs and begins cutting small slices out of her sheared apple. “I am not certain, but it seems likely. Most shape-changing curses have very set time limits, with specific and significant parameters. One that seems random must be specially crafted, and is probably not random at all. And a cat.....well, depending on who the victim is, that might be a very significant choice. Thor, are you certain you don't want to tell me what you're really asking?”

Thor shakes his head, and finally picks up the flagon of wine – Freyja immediately takes the cup he pours for herself, and so he fills another. “I will if I must,” he promises, “But only then.”

“Very well,” Freyja shrugs again, but her manner makes her opinion of his decision clear. “Is there anything else? Any more obscure questions to plague me with? No? Then I think you should tell me of your mother instead, and we shall speak of no more curses for now.”

He spends much longer than he intended with Freyja, talking of the past and of Frigga, of Freyja's students and their various deficiencies, of Thor's adventures and mishaps. Thor is careful not to speak too much of Loki, and Freyja quickly grows tired of his evasiveness. “Tell Loki he must present himself to me within the month,” she commands, imperious as the All-father. “He will not like it if I must come and seek him out myself.” Thor faithfully promises to pass on this dire threat, unsure of how Loki will take it. He and Freyja have had many crossings in the past, and Thor is fairly sure the last time they were face to face was over a score of years ago, when Loki tried to steal Freyja's beloved Hildisvini for a prank, and she replied by turning his entire wardrobe pure white for a month. It had not been a good month.

Between them they nearly finish off the breakfast tray and the two flagons of wine and water, but when Thor reaches for the last piece of ham Frejya smacks his hand. He is taken aback, even more so when she starts making tutting sounds, before he sees her lean down and pick up a small fluffy bundle that has appeared on the floor.

The kitten looks young, as far as Thor can tell these things, and appears to consist mostly of pale yellow fluff. Freyja cradles it like she would a babe for a moment, then holds it out to Thor. “There, you were asking about cats earlier,” she says as he gingerly takes the creature. “This is Beli.”

Thor looks skeptically at a pair of large blue eyes and a twitching nose. After a moment, Beli blinks his eyes and makes an unmistakable squeak, and Thor cannot help but laugh and set the kitten down on his lap. Freyja nods approvingly, and hands him the last piece of ham.

“You can keep him if you like,” she says, watching as Thor tears the ham into small chunks and hand-feeds it to Beli, who is a delight and quickly gobbles down every morsel with more squeaking noises, before licking Thor's fingers clean and beginning to purr so loudly Thor is surprised the table doesn't vibrate. When Thor pets him, he feels how small Beli truly is beneath all his fluffy fur, and is torn between wondering idly how strange he would look when washed, and feeling an odd protectiveness of the little creature he has known for all of five minutes.

Beli nuzzles into his hand much as the cat-Loki had, then flops onto his back dramatically, blinking up at Thor expectantly. Thor chuckles and rubs his belly, one hand enough to cover the space between front and back legs. Beli closes his eyes, clearly in bliss, rumbling louder than the sky before a lightning-strike.

“You were always good with my cats when you were younger,” comments Freyja, watching him with her elbows propped on the table. “Take him.”

Thor shakes his head regretfully. “I do not have time to care for him,” he says truly, thinking of his training and his questing, and of whatever he will find himself doing in the coming days to help Loki.

“He will take care of himself,” Freyja persists. “All you need do is give him food and water every day, and a safe place to sleep, and he will be the sweetest companion you have ever known.”

Thor shoots her a look, wondering at her strange insistence, then picks up Beli gently and hands him back. “No,” he says firmly, careful not to actually look at the kitten as Freyja takes him. She sighs and cradles Beli against her chest again, tickling under his chin until he begins to purr again. “As you wish.”

He rises from the bench, feeling a disquieting sense that she was giving him some kind of hidden test. “I will visit you again soon,” he promises.

“I look forward to it,” she replies, fingertips rubbing circles between Beli's ears. “Bring your brother. I want to speak to him. And tell him if he hoped that love-mark on your neck would look like an actual war wound then he is sadly mistaken. The both of you are as discreet as a pair of rutting beasts, I swear.”

Thor instinctively covers his neck, blushing bright red under her amused gaze.

~~

Loki made it clear he had no need for Thor’s company, and there is little Thor can do to help at the present, so he heads to the barracks, looking for a friendly spar. He has several, roughhousing with other warriors and some younger members of the Einherjar, and shares a hearty midday meal when they are done.

He leaves the hall just in time to see Lady Sif purposefully riding out of the gates.

“A messenger came from a village up north saying they were being troubled by a ravaging beast,” an ostler tells him. “The Lady Sif was here when the messenger arrived, and she went with him immediately.”

Thrimby, the village in question, is barely twenty miles from the city and Thor can easily travel there and back before nightfall. The idea of joining his friend on a short but satisfying hunt is enough to have him hurrying to his rooms to fetch his armour, some supplies and Mjolnir, then return to the stables to saddle his horse and set off. As an afterthought, he tells Roskva to let Loki know he will be away for the rest of the day.

It takes him less than two hours to reach Thrimby, and with good fortune he finds Sif about to set out again and track down the beast. She is surprised to see him, but not directly pleased, and he is careful to ask as graciously as he can to join her in her quest.

It feel excellent to set himself to such a straightforward task; the protection of an innocent village and the slaying of a savage beast. Thor is jubilant as he walks beside Sif through the forest, swinging Mjolnir cheerfully in his hand like an excited child. His mood does not go unnoticed, and Sif gives him a careful sideways look. “You are bright today, my prince,” she says, after a while.

“Aye, and why should I not be?” he replies, grinning at her. “'tis a fair day, with a fine quest and an even finer companion. What could be better?”

Sif smiles reluctantly at this. “I had thought you a little troubled of late,” she admits. “I assumed Loki had got caught up in some outrageous scheme and you were being called upon to rescue him.”

Thor's good mood fades quickly as he tries to think of a way to deny it. Loki has decidedly not asked for his help, but that is the only truth Thor could admit to and Sif would quickly spot his omission.

His silence betrays him, and Sif's face hardens. “That is so, then?” she asks. “Loki fell into some fix and relied on you to save him?”

Thor opens his mouth to speak, but she holds up a hand to stop him. “I know you love him, Thor, and I know that he loves you. No-one, especially not I, could doubt it. But rarely do I hear of Loki going to any pains on your behalf – rather, if you fall into misfortune he is mostly likely the architect of it. He repays your love and tolerance with tricks – and you repay his tricks with yet more love. 'Tis hard for your friends to watch without grief.”

He wants to defend Loki, make Sif see that while, yes, his brother is a trickster Thor would have him no other way. For every time Loki laughs at his expense there are a hundred others where he is responsible for Thor’s joy.

But Sif will never know Loki as Thor does – does not wish to, even if Loki would allow it. For her to know Loki wholly would involve intimacy neither of them desire of the other – and Thor is not sure he even wants his friends to know Loki so well, if the price is sharing his brother's secret side. The way he will relax into Thor's arms when they are alone, the loving look that softens his eyes sometimes when Thor does something particularly worthy. When he was younger it was easier for others to like him and see his better qualities, but now Loki hides them away so tightly it is understandable for Sif to look askance at Thor devotion. He cannot truly fault her for it, even if it is an unwelcome concern.

“Trust that I know him better than you can,” he says eventually, “And trust that I love him, and that I trust him with my life.”

“And with your heart?”

Thor starts guiltily, and avoids her eye. She knows, as do all his friends, that he and Loki are lovers, but, like all his friends, pretends most of the time that she does not. Thor and Loki have never mastered discretion or secrecy, but neither have they truly flaunted their relationship outside of their bedrooms. The Princes of Asgard have rarely slept without one another since Loki was born, and that has simply never changed, and they have been careful to promote an absence of awkward questions. Thor has taken other lovers in the past, Sif included, and enjoyed his time with them, but it is always back to Loki he strays in the end. He knows, distantly, that Loki has relations with others as well, but his brother is more careful than Thor feels the need to be.

Their parents never mention it, although Thor is certain Frigga knows and accepts her sons' relationship (she is cousin to Freyja and Freyr, after all). One day, one very far off day, Odin's murmurings of Thor's marriage to the future Queen of Asgard must be addressed, but that will not be for centuries yet, Thor hopes. The idea of wedding some fair and noble maiden and leaving Loki's bed forever makes him feel a little sick. There is no question that his bond with his brother would change after his marriage, for Thor cannot make vows in the morning to break in the night-time, and it seems unlikely Loki would tolerate Thor swearing himself to another.

His gorge rises at the thought, and Thor struggles to push back the rising tide of panic. “And with my heart,” he says quickly, wishing to return to the matter at hand.

Sif's expression softens into a curiously pitying one. “Then I can only wish you both the best,” she sighs, “For while I have no love for Loki, you, Thor, are my prince and dear friend. Your choices are your own, no matter how strange they might appear to me. I hope that Loki knows what he has, and proves himself worthy of it.”

Thor has no answer to that at all, and Sif does not seem to want one, as she quickens her pace and crouches down to examine the forest floor. “We are close,” she declares, and Thor readies Mjolnir, remembering Sif's own purpose in being here.

They find the beast's cave without difficulty, the bear's track leading directly to a large crevice in a rock wall. Thor doesn't not question Sif's lead – he is tagging along with her quest uninvited, after all – and so patiently waits outside while she goes in to draw the bear out.

She is in the cave longer than Thor likes, and he is on the verge of following her when he hears a yell and Sif runs out of the cave on his left, chased by the bear. It is so monstrously huge that Thor gapes in awe for a moment until Sif screams his name and he leaps into the fray.

~~

Sif ends the battle with a worthy strike through the bear's heart, and it falls so heavily that the ground trembles beneath their feet. Both of them are wounded – Sif has a ragged set of claw-marks along her back and thighs, while Thor has an even messier bite on his arm. They rest for a while and tend each other's wounds with a salve that stops the bleeding, then wrapping them with bandages from Sif's pack. Sif's wounds are mostly superficial, but Thor will certainly need Eir's attention in the healing-rooms later; the wound aches badly, and it hurts to use his hand.

Thor finishes his water-skin and tosses it aside, sitting on the ground and using the dead bear to rest again. “This beast will make a fine pelt,” he tells Sif, wondering how they will carry it home.

“The villagers can use it, along with the meat,” she says, wincing as she tries to find a comfortable position to rest. “We can bring them the carcass on the way back to Asgard.”

~~

When Thor finally returns to the palace in Asgard, it is hours past sunset and he is bone-tired and wants only his bed. The bear was a heavy load to carry with only three hands between them, and his wounded arm feels like it might fall off before the morn. Riding back has just made it worse.

Naturally, the instant he enters his rooms a black cat appears, winding around his legs and wailing loudly. He nearly trips over, and has to grab the edge of the door to hold himself up – he picks the wrong arm to use, and falls down with a yell of pain. Loki jumps onto his chest and meows into his face, claws clattering against his armour. Thor feels like bawling himself, and shoves Loki off as rudely as he can.

Exhausted and dodging his demanding yet unfathomable brother, Thor manages to shut the door and strip off most of his clothes before collapsing sideways onto the bed. Washing and his wound can wait until tomorrow – for now he just needs to sleep.

Loki has no intention of letting him fall into slumber, however, and walks over the bed, still meowing, and nuzzles with interest at Thor's reddened bandages. “Leave off, Loki,” he growls, turning onto his front to remove the arm from Loki's reach. Loki does not leave off, and kneads his claws viciously into the meat of Thor's back, making the god yelp and roll over again.

Thor sits up, pain and anger making him feel a little more awake. He glares at Loki. “I can shut you out, you know,” he points out. “I will help you in the morning brother, but now I am tired and need to rest.”

Loki hisses and jumps into Thor's lap, pulling himself up by Thor's undershirt until he is on his hind legs, staring up at Thor. Thor stares back, unmoved by how adorable his brother may or may not look in this state. His green eyes are huge in the moonlight, the only splash of colour on his midnight face, until he begins to meow again and shows the bright pink inside of his mouth.

“Please let me sleep,” begs Thor, wishing he knew how to appease Loki. Presumably what his brother want is to not be a cat anymore, but Thor has no idea how to achieve that. Yesterday morning was a fluke that not even Loki could explain.

Desperate, he scoops Loki up to cradle him in his good arm, trying to soothe the yowling cat. Thor half-fears that at this rate, Loki is going to wake the rest of the palace with his noise and then they will have that to deal with also, and he is so, so tired. Loki jumps up onto his shoulders and tries to shove his head into Thor's mouth – Thor protests, and ends up with the unpleasant feeling of cat hair on his tongue.

Loki wails even louder, but jumps back down onto the bed, padding around in a circle unhappily. Thor uses the respite to scramble under the covers, settling against the pillows comfortably. He looks at Loki, now sitting up and continuing to make his awful noises. After a moment, Loki abruptly stops yowling, and blinks at Thor. “I promise I will help you tomorrow,” Thor tells him. “But there is nothing I can do right now.” He pats the covers beside him invitingly, hoping that Loki will settle down and sleep.

Loki stares at him for a moment, then scampers over and curls into a tight little ball beside Thor's hip. Thor sighs with relief and begins petting his brother gently, ready to let himself drift into slumber. His arm hurts badly, but it is a distant ache so long as he does not move it. He is almost asleep when he feels Loki's furry little ears nestling against his chin, and drops a sleepy, affectionate kiss on his brother's head.

“Finally!” shouts Loki while Thor coughs on a cloud of cat hair and magical fumes that again taste of aniseed, fully awake once again. “Where the Hel have you been. Thor? And what's happened to your arm?”

Thor flops onto his back and sighs unhappily, staring at the ceiling. “I sent a message to you,” he says tiredly. “I went on a hunt, with Sif.”

“With Sif?” Loki sounds disgusted as he helps himself to Thor's clothing chests again, lighting several braziers around the room with a wave of his hand. Thor doesn't bother to lift his head to complain about Loki's appropriation of his things; it's harder to pretend, when he is so tired, that he finds it anything but wonderful. “I needed you, here.”

Thor snorts in amusement. “You said something different this morning, Loki. If you want my help, you need only ask.”

Loki hisses angrily in reply, then makes a strange hacking sound. He says nothing more, and wanders around Thor's room for a while before returning to Thor's eye line and glaring at him. “I should not need to ask,” he snaps, reaching down and hauling Thor into a sitting position. Thor doesn't resist – he sees the bowl of steaming water sitting on the bed and realises that Loki plans to tend his arm.

He winces as Loki tears away the bloody bandages, looking murderous when he sees the gruesome wound beneath. “You are an idiot,” mutters Loki as he pokes at the torn flesh and begins to clean it with hot water and no mercy whatsoever. Thor is a mighty warrior of legend, but he cringes with pain as Loki swipes with the cloth, gritting his teeth to keep from whimpering. “You are a complete idiot, and a brute and an oaf, and I have no idea why-”

“Those words all mean the same thing, brother,” gasps Thor, torn between groaning with pain and laughter. “Has a cat caught your tongue?”

Loki's revenge is a particularly brutal scrub at Thor's arm before washing the cloth and wringing the bloody water back into the bowl. “I hate you,” he says emphatically, flourishing his wrists to let his sleeves fall back as far as his elbows, holding his bare palms an inch from either side of Thor's arm. “Now shut up.” He begins to mutter something under his breath, and a green glow emanates from his fingers, spreading across the gap and over Thor's damaged flesh. Instantly, the awful ache recedes and he takes a deep breath.

“Thank you Loki,” he breathes, barely keeping himself from slumping against the pillows as Loki's emerald magic wraps around his arm, forming a tight bandage of spun-silk. It is barely more than a sticking-plaster, and Eir will whisk it off in the morning to properly heal the wound as she has done a thousand times before, but for now it means he will sleep easier, and not waken if he happens to jostle it in the night. Also he is less likely to bleed all over his bedsheets.

Loki prods the bandage to cheek it, then gives Thor's chest a gentle shove. Thor sinks against the pillows once more, feeling sleepy with lack of pain, but summons up a lazy grin when Loki climbs into his lap, not done for the evening. Long fingers thread into his hair as Loki bends to kiss him, sucking at his lower lip. “I'll take my payment in kind,” he hears Loki murmur, beginning to rut his hips against Thor. Apparently he didn't have another set of leggings to hand this time.

“I believe I just retrieved you from another night as a cat,” replies Thor, too tired to do much more than trail his hands up and down Loki's back, glad to have the use of both of them to touch Loki. “That's worth a little sticking-spell, I think.”

“You don't even know what you did,” says Loki, mouthing along Thor's jaw. Thor can feel the curve of his lips against his skin and knows he is smiling. He pushes a hand up beneath the shirt Loki has stolen to wear, rubbing a palm along Loki's spine. “I bet you can't tell me how you did it.”

Thor has made wagers with Loki while lying in bed before, and they have yielded mixed results. But the pull of Loki's smile is too strong for him to resist, even if he truly wanted to, and he cannot help but ask, “And if I can? Will you tell me who put this curse on you, so I may wring your true restoration from them?”

Loki pulls away and frowns at Thor. “Stop asking,” he says coldly, smile gone. “I told it you it does not matter, only I can undo this.”

“How can you be so certain?” Thor challenges him. “I don't doubt your magic, Loki, but this curse was made for you. Don't lie, I know whoever did this must have designed it themselves – it can be no accident, nor anything other than an act of malice. Let me help you, Loki. Give me their name, and I shall have them at your feet by sunset tomorrow.” He is bone-tired, and now thanks to Loki, aching with arousal, but it seems the only time Loki will speak of this is when at least one of them is at their limits. He meets Loki's glare with a determined look of his own, his fingers making their own plea along the sweet curve of Loki's back.

“No, Thor,” says Loki quietly, almost apologetically. “I must find the answer myself. But I will need your help to do it.” He slips backwards, out of Thor's reach, and Thor almost protests until Loki spreads his thighs and settles between them, kissing his bare belly and tugging at the laces of his trousers.

Thor thinks about mentioning Freyja, or their mother, as better aides to Loki's spellcraft, but decides against mentioning either of the goddesses when Loki is lapping at the head of his cock. “Then you shall have it,” he promises. “I will not leave Asgard until your curse is broken.”

Loki gives a pleased hum around Thor's cock in his mouth, wrenching a moan from Thor. He slide his hands slowly up Thor's thighs, a heavy caress even through the rumpled fabric of his britches, and presses Thor's hips down into the bed, keeping him from bucking up into Loki's mouth as he sucks on Thor's cock.

Soon, Thor is panting and straining upward, clutching the streets hard enough for them to pull them from beneath the mattress and bunch up around them. Loki presses kisses up and down his shaft, pausing to suck gently on the soft skin of his balls then again to mouth at the tip. His hands still hold Thor down, thumbs rubbing fond circles into the dimples of Thor's hips. But as Thor moans louder, almost at his peak, Loki stops and sits up, licking his lips with a pleased expression.

“W-what?” asks Thor desperately, reaching for Loki and pleading – he is too exhausted for Loki's games, which of course means that Loki is hungrier for them than ever.

“Tell me what you did that changed me back,” demands Loki, catching Thor's hands with his own and linking his fingers through Thor's, but coming no closer, even as Thor's swollen cock quivers and cools uncomfortably in the air between them.

“My kiss,” Thor gasps without hesitation. “My kiss changed you back, both times. But, ah, but when you tried it didn't work.” He takes a shuddering breath as Loki slides back into his lap, trying to drag Loki closer but finding his brother unyielding.

“Clever boy,” purrs Loki, lifting himself on his knees and sinking down slowly with a long sigh, his slick, tight heat engulfing Thor perfectly. He releases one of Thor's hands to run his fingertips over Thor's chest, tracing the mounds of his pectorals and tweaking his nipples. He is still dressed in Thor's shirt, the white linen highlighting the flush of his neck and face and the dark ink of his tousled hair. Thor squeezes his hand and cups his free hand under Loki's arse to encourage him to move. Loki begins to undulate his hips slowly, mouth going slack as his expression becomes unfocused, and Thor simply rocks up into him, adoring the sight of Loki so lost in pleasure

Sometime later, after Loki has wiped them both clean and disposed of the basin of water by pouring it onto the braziers, they snuggle together under the covers. Thor is too tired to even open his eyes, and just folds Loki against his chest, both of them still half-dressed. “You will have to do exactly what I tell you, and be available when I need you,” murmurs Loki, stroking shapeless patterns into Thor's skin. “And no more questions or sneaking around, Thor. Whoever did this does not matter at all, I swear. I will deal with them when I am ready.”

Thor mumbles an agreement and finally sinks into slumber, his arms tight around Loki and his heart warm with love.


End file.
